


A God’s Best Friend

by thorbiased



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers 4 Speculation (kinda), Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Dogs, Fluff, Gen, I wouldn’t call it major character death but I mention several people’s deaths so, Pain, Phantom pain, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Thor Needs a Hug, Thor gets a dog, fair warning, puppies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorbiased/pseuds/thorbiased
Summary: Rosie took well to the training, but didn’t much like the shiny vest Thor put on her, so he didn’t make her wear it. She helped him from bumping into things when he was out on the street, and comforted him when his grief felt like too much to shoulder. She rested her fuzzy chin on his chest, and he cried into her fur sometimes, but she never minded.Thor gets a service dog.





	A God’s Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a post somewhere about Thor getting a service dog, but I cannot remember whose post it was, so this is not entirely my own original idea. Also, a little disclaimer, I’m not a medical professional but I did do some research into what Thor would be going through, but obviously it’s not entirely accurate. I apologize for that. Anyway, enjoy! <3

Thor hated the eye that Rocket gave him. It was uncomfortable and reminded him too much of Heimdall when he saw that yellow glint in the mirror. It hurt, a deep aching pain that he couldn’t dull with alcohol or even the enhanced medicine that Bruce had given him. And it was foreign. It made him feel...off. Like when he looked in the mirror it wasn’t himself, it was a stranger. He hated it. 

When things died down a little and the snap was more candlelight than blazing neon, he stopped using it. He rummaged around in the drawers of his room in the compound and found the eye patch he’d worn so briefly. His fingers brushed the hard leather and his breath caught. He pulled it out and slipped it over his scarred and empty eye socket. It did suit him, he decided. 

No one asked when he came to dinner that night wearing it, but Bruce’s lips flattened into a thin, understanding line. 

It turned out that it wasn’t the eye that had caused the pain. (The pain that kept him up at night more than the nightmares. The pain that sent pangs through his whole scull. The pain that kept him in bed for hours after he’d dragged himself out of a restless sleep.) Bruce called it “phantom pain”, something that people who’d lost eyes and limbs felt. It explained why sometimes it felt like his eye was still there, explained why he saw lights and shapes on his right side. Thor didn’t mention that every once in a while, he swore he saw Loki’s outline, just the ghost of his cape, or his mother’s curls. He figured maybe phantom pain was the explanation for that, too. Or perhaps he was going mad.

He wondered if his father had ever felt like this. If phantom pains ever plagued the All-Father. Thor doubted it. Only he felt like this. The stubborn and arrogant prince that would never be as good as his father, never rule Asgard as well. That voice, that snickering one in the back of his mind, whispered, “Not good enough, not worthy, not good enough” when he let himself relax for even a moment. 

Thor found that he ran into things a lot. The corners of table tops, the legs of chairs, even the refrigerator door. It was infuriating, his lack of depth perception. He over-reached for glasses of water that were two inches away and shouted to people that were standing only a few steps away. It made it hard to train. He had to relearn how to throw knives with Natasha and how to aim guns (that he never actually used, but knew how to, just in case) properly.

He talked to Bruce about it because he knew Bruce would understand feeling betrayed by your own body. Though it was a little strange to compare the Hulk to loosing an eye. Leave it to Thor to make the comparison. 

Bruce suggested a service dog. 

Thor was familiar with the concept of a service dog because once he was on the subway because Mjolnir could be quite destructive and it was only a little ways to where he needed to be, and a kind young woman with dark glasses was sitting with a dog in a bright yellow vest. Thor, curious, had asked her about it, and she’d patiently explained. 

So Thor, Bruce, and Brunnhilde went to the pound to get Thor a service dog. 

The owner was unsurprisingly a little intimidated by the two Asgardians and Bruce Banner bursting into the shelter, but played it off well. He led them through the cat hall, and it was discovered that Brunnhilde was a cat person. And then they reached the dogs. 

Thor picked out a German Shepherd with big brown eyes (that might have reminded him of a certain valkyrie, but he’d never admit it). He named her Rosie, and treated her as if she was actually princess of Asgard. 

She took well to the training, but didn’t much like the shiny vest Thor put on her, so he didn’t make her wear it. She helped him from bumping into things when he was out on the street, and comforted him when his grief felt like too much to shoulder. She rested her fuzzy chin on his chest, and he cried into her fur sometimes, but she never minded. 

Rosie slept in Thor’s bed, stationed at his feet, guarding him from harm. It was a good, warm feeling to be protected, one Thor hadn’t felt since he was young. Even when she got big, she still loved to sit on his lap and chew on his hands, if he let her. She was a bundle of energy, always, except for when she was working. And she was a dutiful worker. 

They still had to fight Thanos. People were still dust, and they still had to fight Thanos. When it came time to fight, Thor put that eye back in and ignored the way it felt (and ignored the way Rosie whined at the sight of it). He fought as hard as he could and soldiers fell. Steve fell (and Thor swore in that moment, watching as his friend lifelessly fall to the ground, that he wouldn’t lose anything else, and he fought harder than he ever had before.) 

They won. The people who’d dusted came back, and Thor watched the Wakandan queen sob in her brother’s arms, watched Tony’s Peter wrap his whole body around his mentor, watched Sam and Bucky search for Steve, only to have Natasha tell them what happened. 

Thor came home with scars and more loss than he’d left with. Rosie greeted him at the door with kisses and love. She licked at the scars on his arms and helped heal the scars on his heart. She was a shoulder to cry on, when she needed to be. And she protected her master from nightmares and the end of the coffee table that he could never make himself get rid of. 

Thor was king of Asgard, the god of thunder, and an ex-Avenger. He bent lighting and storm to his will. But he ran into the fridge more times than he’d like to admit, and he’d knocked over too many glasses to count, and he wasn’t perfect. Sometimes his imperfections bothered him, but then Rosie jumped into his lap and licked his scarred cheek, and he managed to push away the doubts that crept up on him. 

Thor loved his princess and Rosie loved her master, and life was better that way.


End file.
